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by keira armstrong

Sitting the square barber chair,

I realize where I’m going.

The sound of knives buzzing in my ears

and the hands of men at the scruff of my neck,

rise softly in my throat;

A new voice, bright and lukewarm.

Look at me, pulling at my hair and

taking in the recycled air.

My city lays itself bare at my feet,

complacent and digging an accent into my throat.

Deeper and closer to a growl can I take

this girl’s voice inside me.

My chest consists of scratches and cut off hair.

I will hurtle and throw myself at the edges of

man, just to consume him.

Laying with my stomach full of my father,

I arrive.


Keira Armstrong, a young author and poet, is the founder of Verum Literary Press and a staff contributor at Cloudy Magazine. Their work has been published or is forthcoming in Healthline Zine, Corporeal Lit, Sage Cigarettes, Anti-Heroin Chic, Limelight Review and more. You can find them at

Image by Bree Anne
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